Death, Unsighted: The 19th Games
by The Little Obelia
Summary: ". You would think that even the oh-so-intellectual District 3 would be above poking people with sticks. Apparently not." Rated T for obvious reasons, *CLOSED!*
1. Chapter 1

**Yep, it's another one of those SYOTs. You know you love them. Does it have a twist? Probably. **

**If you want to submit a tribute, the form is on my profile. To keep this legal, I'm only accepting submissions via PM, in other words: DO NOT SEND IN YOUR TRIBUTE VIA REVIEW!**

**I don't really want Bloodbath tributes, so don't send them in, and any of those annoying too perfect tributes will die quickly. Read 'How to Make Your Tribute Not Suck' if in doubt. Reserves are accepted, but only for 24 hours. You can send in a maximum of 2 tributes each, and there is no guarrantee they will both be accepted. I'm not going to nag you any longer because I know it annoys people. **

**For now, a little taste test of my writing, and a prologue to the games: Here are the final moments of the 18****th**** games… Send those tributes in quick! **

_The arena shook with a deafening rumble, as the two of them ran. The ground fell away beneath their feet, into the tumbling grey sea that roared below. Icy rain hit their skin and grazed their faces, drawing blood. The girl swiped her brown curls out of the way and was surprised when it came back with a handful of hair. The radiation from the explosion was taking effect. He was at her heels, screeching and slashing with a rusted sword. _

_Everything was collapsing now, she could see the trees and rocks ahead all crumbling into the cavernous ocean. She tripped on a root and fell face first into the mud. In a flurry of matted hair, tooth and blood he jumped and tackled her whilst she tried to stand._

"_Screw you, Karo." She spat, along with a mouthful of dirt. "You used to be my friend." Karo grabbed the remainder of her hair and pushed her head back down. He tried his hardest not to cry as he drowned the only person that had accepted him for who he was.  
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"_Game over, Karming." He panted raggedly, as he held her face into the dirty puddle. Karming's arms flailed wildly. Karo felt his soul rip with each desperate push from his victim. Karo pushed her down until she stopped moving. He had won.  
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_A canon went off somewhere and he slowly turned her over. Karming's pretty face was destroyed. Her good eye was scrunched tight, her nostrils filled with dirt. The remainder of her hair wafted about her scalp in patches, and her soft skin was grazed and torn. He remembered her voice before the final three tributes._

"_It's good to know that there's someone who doesn't want to kill me in this game…" He could see her smile, and rub him on the back.  
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_The whir of the final hovercraft was audible now. He curled up into a ball and wished he had never been born. _

**So, send in those tributes! May the odds be ever in your favour! (Conditionally...)**_  
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	2. All That Other Stuff You Want To Know

**All That Other Stuff You All Want To Know About...**

**Okay, so here's all that info you've been pining after...**

**Sponsor Points...**

These Systems always tend to get a bit complicated, so there will be no 'Sponsor Point System' per say, but a new poll on my profile each chapter where you can indicate which tribute you think should get the sponsor gift for the next chapter. Make sense? Each poll will list what each sponsor will be, and you can vote accordingly.

**Bloodbath Tributes...**

Before I start up the actual games, I want to know what tributes you want to make it through the bloodbath. I'll put up a poll on my profile once I get all my tributes (There are still LOADS of spots left guys!) and each author can vote for three tributes that they want to live - If that makes any sense - I'm rather unfamiliar with how polling works...

A certain number of tributes who have fewer votes will be selected, and they will die in the bloodbath. If you want your tribute, I would suggest getting over to my profile as soon as all the tributes are in.

**Who lives and who dies...**

This will be decided by a semi-random system that I know all about and you don't. It will not be completely random (So it's not like I'm just picking them out of a bowl...), but it's not like I'll hand pick the kills. Don't try to understand the system. I barely do myself.

**Tribute Form...**

Yeah, I thought I'd put it up here so it's easier for you guys to find. but remember:

**I AM ONLY ACCEPTING TRIBUTES SENT IN VIA PM. TRIBUTES SENT IN REVIEWS WILL NOT BE ACCEPTED! I DON'T CARE IF YOUR TRIBUTE IS THE MOST GODDAMN AMAZING TRIBUTE EVER, YOU HAVE SEND THEM IN VIA PM. IF YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT A 'PM' IS, WORK IT OUT!**

So here's that form...

**Tribute Form**

Name:

District and back up:

Gender:

Age:

Appearance:

Personality (Please include faults!):

Family and Friends:

History (Life in the districts is hard, but not everyone can have a sob story.):

Reaped/Volunteered:

Reaction/Why?:

Strengths:

Weaknesses:

Fears:

Interview Angle:

Arena Strategy:

Alliance:

Why do they want to win?:

Anything else you want to add:

**I'm sure we're all aware of district trends, with naming and appearance and such—basically what I'm trying to say is incorporate that. Remember the individual values of each district and such. They can be useful tools in creating a tribute.**

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><p><strong><span>Final Tribute List<span>**

Yes, citizens of Fanfictionland, here are your tributes! Sent in from across the globe, from the USA to Canada to India to Australia (And I think one may be from South Korea...), gathered to represent all you awesome folks in a game where... they will mostly die horribly. One will win, and he/she/it will be crowned winner of the 19th Hunger Games! Without further rambling, I present the unlucky few to be sent to their deaths. Kind of a pity, 'innit?

**District 1**

**M: Zed Katlar (18): **A womanizer , a flirt and dangerously arrogant, Zed seems to be your average man-whore career. He comes off as shallow and girl-crazy, but does he hide secrets underneath?**  
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**F: Xiaomei Sol (18): **Despite her gruff exterior, Xiaomei really is an easy going career. Rolling with the punches, going with the flow Xiaomei is happy living in her cloud of content. But how will her cloud far againt the storm of the games?**  
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**District 2:**

**M: Lars Bons (17): **Cocky and loud, Lars is your run-off-the mill over-confident career. Handsome, arrogant, flirty and charming, we are only left to wonder how this swaggering loudmouth will fare in the arena...**  
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**F: Astridge Fabons (17): **Somewhat of a complicated soul, Astridge is all about justice. Watch out district 1 tributes, cause she's out to avenge her brother's death.**  
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**District 3: ****  
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**M: Lucas Heavens (15): **Cold, withdrawn, chaotic and emotional- somehow, Lucas manages to be all thse things at once. But what could possibly lie behind those ever wandering eyes?**  
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**F: Chevelle Watts (16):** Chevelle: The zesty bright young thing from District 3. Slightly eccentric and very energetic, Chevelle has an unyielding curiosity which could take her far in this competition.**  
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**District 4:**

**M: Kenneth "Ken" Raleigh (12): **Ken is absoloutely sure that he is the most perfect and prime speciman of boy in the entire of forever. He's pretty sure that everyone else agrees with him. What on earth is going on inside the head of this delusioned kid?**  
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**F: Marlena "Lena" Cross (17): **Sick of hiding in her father's shadow, Lena wants to show the world that she is her own person and has what it takes to be victor of this year's games. Does she have any idea what she's getting herself into?**  
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**District 5:**

**M: Kai Nashburn (18): **Kai seems shy, but really he just doesn't have much to say; little words, big thoughts. With a history of victors in his blood, Kai believes that he has the stuff to win.**  
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**F: Seytha Ridge (16): **Loud, strong willed and very commanding, Seytha demands to be in control of everything. How will this stubborn tribute fare when she cannot take control of the situation?**  
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**District 6:**

**M:**** Tobias Seward (18): **Tobias has a passion for helping people, and has always dreamt of being a doctor. Can he apply this in the arena, or will it work to his disadvantage?**  
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** F: Lyn Christo (17): **Quiet, reserved and forever an outsider, Lyn struggles to be noticed by anyone and everyone. Can this perrenial wallflower step up to the mark and finally bloom?

**District 7:**

**M:Keagan Terrinoli (16): **Reserved, intelligent, and a good listener are the qualities that characterise this tribute. One can't shake the feeling that he is filled with some tragic ache and sadness...

**F: Erraminta 'Minty' Tacotts (14): **Boisterous, clever and over-confident, Minty is pretty sure rules don't apply to her. An expert in hooliganism and tomfoolery, Minty is determined to make the lives of every peacekeeper in District 7 miserable. But will a life of rule-breaking play to her advantage in the arena?**  
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**District 8:**

**M: Kortine "Kor" Stream (12): **Back at home Kor is the school yard bully, always picking on people smaller than him. But as a twelve year old stuck in the arena of death, how will Kor fare when everyone is bigger than him?**  
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**F: Emmalee Joss (16): **This fiery tribute from District 8 has a temper that goes off like badly made fireworks: Unpredictably and chaotically. Fierce and independent, Emmalee is an explosion waiting to happen.**  
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**District 9:**

**M: Fray Aande (15):** Fray is a really nice guy. He's friendly, and caring and just about the most pleasant person you could meet. But the arena isn't about being nice. Will Fray's lovely personality fray at the seams?**  
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**F: Edie Lucaster (18): **How does Edie feel about being reaped? The thing is, she doesn't. Silent and ever-watching, Edie is a sociopath, and is about to take the term 'emotionless' to another level.**  
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**District 10:**

**M: Sora Tess (15) **Sora, the short little farm boy from District 10 is a little peculiar. With a funny way of talking, Sora really isn't a people person. All we can do is wonder how he'll fare in the arena, with so many barriers that could stop him in his tracks.**  
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**F: Mackenzie "Mikky" Norcat (15): **This clumsy tribute tends to come off as unfriendly and cold, but she's really quite nice. All she really wants is to return home to her beloved little sister Reneeta.**  
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**District 11:**

**M: Orion Dophino (13):** Determined and ever so militaristic, Orion can sometimes be seen as being a little gruff. His drill sergeant mentality can border on ridiculous, but it works for him just fine. Will District 11's soldier survive this bloody battle?**  
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**F: Stella Alicia (14): **The classic rebel, Stella has a blatant 'I-don't-care-what-you-think' attitude, with a great stinking heap of sarcasm to throw on top. Calm, cool and totally chanelling an emo vibe, how will this rebel chick fare in the land of no rules?**  
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**District 12:**

**M: Eathem Foster (17): **Being blind is never easy, but when you live in the seam... Eathem is just sick of being defined by his blindness. Can he finally prove himself in the arena?**  
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**F: Abbie Hotler (15): **This happy-go-lucky tribute is the proud owner of a care free attitude not normally found in The Seam, where she lives. Will this friendly girl get back to her friends?

**So, full speed ahead to the Reapings! I will post all 12 District Reapings, then the Chariots from an audience perspective, and then the interviews from an audience perspective. During all the pre-games fru-fru you can go to my profile and vote for 3 tributes you want to make it through the bloodbath. It should be up... now. I'm assuming you've all read through the sponsor gift system? If you haven't, look at the top of this page.**

**I'll be in Melbourne for the next few days and will probably not be able to post the D1 reapings until I get back, although I do have intentions of getting some writting done. After that I'll try to post every few days or so. However, sending reviews administers an imaginary drug into my system which will make me write twice the normal speed... *hint hint*. **

**May the odds be ever in the favour of those who are awesome!  
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	3. D1: Not quite regret

**Okay! District 1 reapings! First real chapter, okay! I hope this is okay. Okay! Far too much use of the word 'Okay!'. Okay. Queue the District one Reapings!**

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><p><strong>Zed Katlar<strong>

"Screw this, Zed- I don't need this today. For the final time, piss off and go find a different pair of feet to grovel at!"

That was the sound of my ex-girlfriend Michella yelling at me. It was closely followed by the slam of my backdoor, and then the sound of Michella swearing really, really loudly.

I sat down at my kitchen bench and sighed loudly, thumping my forehead against the granite table top. All I'd asked Michella to do was get back together with me, and I had only asked her five times in the last month or so. I groaned and banged my head again and again, until I could feel the pounding pain in my skull that I normally get after I try to talk to talk to Michella and end up banging my head on the kitchen counter. It hurt.

"You need to get over her..." I mumbled to myself. With another mighty sigh I hauled myself off the bench and on to my feet. It was Reaping Day, and I had things to do- like go whistle at girl outside the grocery store for what might be the last time.

My name is Zed Katlar, and today was the day I was volunteering as the District 1 male tribute.

I found Mason and Sid lounging in the alley next to the grocery store. Mason slapped me on the back and Sid gave a nod in my direction. Mason grinned widely and held out a packet of cigarettes.

"Man, how did you get your hands on those?" I exclaimed. Cigarettes cost a heap, and even in District 1 they're a luxury affordable to the rich and the victors.

"I have my ways..." He smirked, "Like stealing them out of the Peacekeeper Office." He light one and handed it to me.

"That's like, hard core."

"Think of it as a going away present," said Mason, "When you come back as Victor you'll be able to buy as many packets as you want."

I took a puff and spluttered dryly, hacking and coughing like I'd been punched in the stomach. I had only tried a cigarette once before, when I was 15, and it still tasted just as much.

"Mason, these taste like shit!" I laughed and took another puff, now wheezing like a steam train.

"They must be an acquired taste." Said Mason coolly. He too, was coughing. So was Sid.

We whistled at every chick that passed by. Mostly they crinkled their noses at the smell and strode on by to the square, but one or two did call us pigs. Another slapped Sid across the face. Stupid girls. None of them were quite as good-looking as Michella.

I put my forehead to my palm and rolled my eyes. No more thinking about Michella today. Today was about me.

**Xiaomei Sol**

It was funny the way the square seemed to be much more sombre than it was last year.

It could be due to the fact that our beloved male tribute Glaze, the heart throb of the District and the shoe-in to win the 18th Hunger Games died really, really horribly last year at the feast. I shan't go into detail about how he was skinned alive, or how he had his teeth and nails ripped out one by one. Since then, the enthusiasm for the games had died down a fair bit, as all the kids who went to training with him began to realise, hey, sometimes people die in these games. It was now about an hour till the games, and there was yet to be word of who the female tribute was going to be. We haven't had a reaped tribute in District 1 since the 5th games.

I glanced over at my best friend Lucy and smiled. She was staring off into the clouds as we walked into our allocated section. Lucy looked back at me and smiled back.

"Any word on the volunteers yet?" She whispered to me.

"Apparently that Zed Katlar guy is volunteering for the guys..." I replied.

"Him? The flirt. He and his gang wolf whistled at me this morning. He's such a Neanderthal."

"I know. He trains sometimes at my Mum's training centre."

"And the girl volunteer?"

"Dunno yet."

"Well, I hope it's someone decent," Lucy declared, "Hey, maybe _you _should volunteer!"

"Really?" I sniffed. I had always thought of myself as taking over my Mother's training centre.

"Nah. I need you here, Sidekick. Someone else will, I'm sure." Lucy shook my shoulder playfully and gave me a look that said she was joking.

But now the idea was playing on my mind.

Everyone watched as our beloved freak Quinti climbed to the stage. I couldn't help but worry what about her getting blood poisoning from all that metal in her face, if it were to rain and her piercings were to rust. It all jangled dangerously as she bounded up the stairs.

I thought about the games. Every year, at least one kid from our District dies. But then, most of those kids were idiots, too. Anyone could win, I guessed, if they just were slightly more strategical. But there's also a very real chance of dying horribly...

"- Welcome to the District One -"

Anyway, who knew what lurked beyond the grave? Maybe taking a risk and having a chance of bringing wealth and honour to my family and friends was worth the while. How would my family feel if I volunteered? It would be totally unexpected...

"- This year's female tribute -"

They would all be horrified that I would put my life on the line! You only get one shot at living and to waste it would be stupid. But then there was that chance, that glimmering hope, and the things it would do for my mother's business, and for myself-

"-Is-"

"- I volunteer!" The words slipped from my mouth and I instantly felt a twang of something that wasn't quite regret. I walked to the stage with my head held high, and I tried my best not to look back at Lucy.

My eyes were instantly drawn to my parents at the back of the crowd when I reached the stage. I could see my mother on the verge of yelling at me and my father looking upwards as if praying. Then there was Lucy with a look of complete awe painted on her face. I felt that twang again.

"Your name?" Intruded Quinti

"Xiaomei Sol" I replied.

I barely noticed what happened next, or what the escort said. My parents, Lucy; their faces were burnt onto my retina. And I felt that twang again.

**Zed Katlar**

"G'luck, mate." Sid patted me on the back, "You better win."

Mason stood on my other side and slapped my hand, before bending down and taking something out of his shoe.

"Here, take this as your token." He said.

I look at his hand. It's an old shoelace.

"No thanks, Mason- I've already got a token." I held up the little bow necklace that lay against my chest.

"Seriously? A girlie necklace?" I heard Sid snicker.

"My little sister's gave it to me. It's my token." I raised my voice slightly to see him back off.

We talk and say goodbyes, and I catch the eyes of my family in the crowd and give a wave. I zone out and focus on a pebble near my feet until I hear the escort call the boy's reaping.

Before she can finish her sentence, I volunteer. I swagger to the stage and try to look intimidating. There are a few cheers from the crowd as I stand up tall next to what's-her-face the girl tribute.

"Hi." I whisper to her. When trying to charm the nation, you have to start somewhere.

"Hey," She whispers back, "You stink of cigarettes."

As I look to the crowd, I can see Michella's face. She looks unimpressed, and I feel a funny pang hit me.

_Just smile and wave, Zed. Smile and wave._

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><p><strong>Wow. That sucked. Next up, the District 2 reapings! This should be fun. I promise to have it up by Sunday! I promise!<strong>

**Reviews? :)  
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	4. D2: My Brother's Warrior

**AAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRGGHHH!**

**I'm such a liar. A promise breaker. Take me away and send me to jail for crimes against updating a day late! I don't mean to be using technology as a scapegoat (Actually, I do...), but THE COMPUTER DID IT! It's screen stopped working, and we now have to take it to the computer , I always work off Doc Manager, so all my stuff is accessible via any computer! So, I found another computer in my house, but halfway through writing the internet went down! For two weeks! Very unfair on my poor readers...**

**I hate technology. Hate it.**

**Oh, and a language warning on this chapter: A certain angry tribute may say a few bad words. I know I swore in the last chapter and didn't put up a language warning, but still. **

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><p><strong>Astridge Fabons<strong>

67, 68, 69, 70...

I counted each sit up silently under my breath. I could feel the hot sweat dripping down my forehead. I gritted my teeth and pulled in my stomach, refusing to let the burn of my muscles swallow me up and make me stop moving for even a moment. I jumped to my feet and ran to the other side of the training room, and then back again, breathing hard.

I barrelled into a stack of training dummies, scattering them several feet in every direction. I snatched up a sword from the rack and slashed the nearest dummy from top to tail, little Styrofoam balls exploding in every which way, dancing in the around me like snow. I brushed the stuffing away from my face and stabbed another dummy three times in quick succession. More stuffing went flying. I tackle another into the floor and stabbed it too. The snowstorm of stuffing whirled around me as I slashed my way through the dummies.

"You know they only have a limited supply of those." A voice broke my concentration and I spun around to see my Father standing in the doorway, a bemused look on his face.

"They can get more." I replied, kicking a severed dummy arm across the room, scattering foam. I watched as my blizzard began to sink around me, settling at my feet. I couldn't help but feel annoyed that he'd interrupted my personal snowstorm.

"There's only half an hour till the reapings begin," Dad held up a plastic bag and shook it "I brought you something to wear." He tried to smile at me and I scowled back."You're not volunteering dressed in a tank top and leggings on my watch."

I raked my hands through my hair and sighed deeply.

"I'm not doing this for you, y'know. When I win, it's going to be for Jace. Whoever those District 1 tributes are, they are going to pay for killing my brother." I clenched my jaw and stabbed my sword into the ground. "I'm going to hunt them down, and kill them. I'll watch them suffer, just like that Gossamer bitch watched Jace writhe on the ground."

"Darling," He walked over to me and put an arm around my shoulder, "I completely understand what you're going through, and if you want to enter the games, that's your choice. But I'm not sure your motives are right. We all miss Jace just as much as you, but this revenge could mean that we lose-"

"It's not revenge" I interrupted, "Its _justice_. Justice for what they did to him, for what they did to my family. Mum used to be happy, she used to talk to people, and now all she does is stare at the wall. Jace was supposed to win. He'd been training since he was 3. He was going to go down in history as one of the most famous victors in Panem's history. He had a girlfriend, and that District 1 bitch took that all away from him! From us! I know that Jace would want one thing; justice."

Tears were dripping down my face and I wiped them away angrily. Jace wouldn't have wanted me to cry. I had to be strong; I had to be a _warrior_. My brother's warrior.

**Lars Bon**

Saturday morning. Reaping day. I'd been waiting for this day for over a year. So why was I still lying on a bench with fifteen minutes until the reapings? Good question. I wasn't really sure myself.

You could normally find me lying on this bench on Saturday mornings, right after training. It was blue, made of wood and at the perfect height for looking up the skirts of passing girls, if you put your head at the right angle. Plus, it was really, really comfortable.

I guess you could say that I was saying goodbye to my bench. I wouldn't get to lie on this bench again until after the games, and even then I probably wouldn't have much opportunity to come to the training centre to lie on the bench. We'd been good mates over the years, and it was probably about time I thanked it for years of being able to perve on hot girls and have naps in public.

_Ding Ding Ding!_

The bell signifying the beginning of the reapings rung clear across the town. Crap, crap, and holy crapness- I was going to be late for my own Reaping Day. I bounded off the bench, gave it a quick pat and ran like I was being chased by mutts.

I could hear the Mayor's speech droning over the loudspeakers on every street sign. I rounded a corner just in time to hear him finish. Bolting closer to the square, I could already see that the female tribute had mounted the stage and the escort was raising his hand as if he were too-

"I volunteer!" I yelled as loud as my lungs allowed. I pushed through the crowd, shoving my way to the stage. The Mayor gave me a disparaging look up and down.

"Name?" He said curtly, biting his lip.

"Lars," I puffed "Lars _freaking_ Bon"

"Ooh!" Piped up the escort from behind us, "_Your _last name is almost _her _last name!" He pointed at my District Partner and giggled, evidently proud of himself for making such an_ intelligent_ observation.

I turned to face my District partner, and my jaw dropped.

It was Astridge. Astridge Fabons. Of all the girls that could have volunteered, Astridge did.

I'd always had a thing for Astridge. In fourth grade we were partners for the Districts of Panem assignment. We got District 11. What can I say? She was pretty, smart and great at cutting out cardboard fruit. I was smitten. Out of all the girls I know, she's the only one who's ignored my advances (Though I don't think she noticed them in the first place.) Still, I had wanted to marry her. I'd even come up with a couple name; Larstridge Fabonbon. And now any chance I'd ever had to get the girl of my dreams was down the toilet.

But I didn't cry. I didn't shout out. I smiled. I shook her hand. My insides surged, and I felt like I was going to vomit.

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><p><strong>Woop woop! <strong>

**Another chapter down! Haha!**

**If you have a song that you think would be good for me to listen to whilst I write your tribute, send it in! **

**Also, some food for thought, because I'm feeling very philosophimical right now: **

You and your best friend are stuck at a cross road with two paths. If you walk down the path on the right, you will experience the worst, hellish world of pain and sadness and everything bad for an hour, before coming out unscathed surrounded by treasures beyond your wildest dreams. If you walk down the path on the left, you will experience the best hour of your life, with everything you could ever dream of included, before suddenly dying. But here's the catch: You and your best friend each have to go down different paths. Which one do you choose?

**Review with your answer! :)**


	5. D3: Tick Tock, life is a clock

**Y'know what's funny? When you're naming your Doc Manager document and you miss the E in Reapings. District 3 Rapings. Lolcats.**

**Third chapter! I know, you're all dead impressed. Most SYOTs don't actually last this long. Let's pray this one does.**

**And just so you know, I'm probably going to take down the poll I have up at the moment and put up an identical one once I'm through the reapings. I smelled a rat when I noticed that one particular tribute that has not been written in yet mysteriously had 5x the amount of votes anyone had. You know who you are.**

**I shall stop abusing my right to an Author's Note, and move onwards to the D3 reapings!**

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><p><strong>Chevelle Watts<strong>

Who doesn't love the smell of motor oil in the early morning?

I waltzed into the garage with a spring in my step, and flicked on the lights. Twirling on the spot I turned and banged the old radio. It gave a bit of a jump, then a splutter, before cruising into the latest tunes off the Capitol Top 100. Yeah, it was illegal to listen in on Capitol radio, but everyone who could get their hands on a radio did it. The only other station we could get reception was The Peacekeeper Network 78.9, and that only consisted of news reports and propaganda. The Peacekeepers themselves didn't even listen to it.

Humming along to the warbling melody, I snatched up my toolbox and wrenched open the bonnet of the latest wreck to grace our workshop. The pistons had somehow melted, and some kind of weed seemed to be growing out of the radiator, but I was convinced it was salvageable. The heady smell of grease and oil wafted around and I couldn't help but smile.

I'm Chevelle. Chevelle Watts. My parents were inventors who got sent to the capitol to do serious stuff with hovercrafts. Little baby Chevelle got left behind to live in the community home, and despite that, I think I have it pretty good. I get fed and watered and loved by a whole heap of different people; I like to think of my upbringing as a community project. I work at the garage after school and on weekends to earn a bit of cash, and maybe one day I'll do something awesome and get to go live in the Capitol- who knows? I like to look at life positively.

It was almost mid-morning by the time anyone else came to work. As the youngest of the staff, I was the only one still eligible to be reaped, which quisessentially meant I spent the next few hours trying to convince everyone I wasn't going to get reaped- or at least that I only had approximately a 1.7/4521 chance of getting reaped. I don't blame them for worrying. Everyone does.

10 o'clock came around quicker than a drunken victor speeding round a corner. I packed up my toolbox and pushed it under the worktable for my shift tomorrow. I gave a smile and a wave and walked out of the workshop, just like that.

It's easy to put one's faith in statistics; in math. Four entries in a bowl of thousands. 1.7/4521 chance. Thinking about it like that makes it all seem unreal. Math is just theory. It exists entirely in our brains. It isn't real, really.

Now, it all seems irrational. It's hard to put one's faith in math.

**Lucas Haven**

My breakfast was cold.

I don't know how long it sat there for. I had been far too fixated on fixing my clock. It normally rings at 7:00am every morning, but this morning it rang at 7:05am- which clearly meant there was something wrong with it and it needed to be disassembled. It seemed like I had spent barely 10 minutes tinkering before the clock was back in one piece, not long enough for Mum to have cooked hot cakes or put them down in front of me- but there my hot cakes sat, cooked, served and stone cold. No longer hot cakes, really.

I wound up the clock and it started to tick. I took my plate in one hand and the clock in the other upstairs, emptying my plate into the bin on the way. I put my clock on my bedside table with a pat and went to get dressed for the Reapings. I would have to wait until tomorrow to find out if it was working.

I glanced out the window and could see that everyone was beginning to walk down the street to the square for the reapings, peacekeepers herding them like cattle out of houses. Goading them with sticks. You would think that even the oh-so-intellectual District 3 would be above poking people with sticks. Apparently not.

I slipped into a shirt and jeans and hopped down the stairs and out the door. Mum and Michael had obviously already left for the reapings a while ago, so I made sure to lock the door behind me. I meandered down the street, hands in pockets daydreaming about nothing in particular. By the time I'd reached the square the entire district had arrived, streaming into roped off sections with such fluidity it almost seemed like clockwork.

I gave a half-hearted smile to the green haired official signing me in, and took my place in the 15s section. Vespa Throttle- our token freak boarded the stage with a wide beam plastered across her face.

"Ladies first!" She trilled. A lump swelled in my throat. Now to see which kids would be sent to their doom.

**Chevelle Watts**

It was hard not to laugh at the poor escort -Trying with all her might to open the little flap on the front of the Reaping Ball, and failing dismally as her ridiculously long nails clacked around the hatch, unable to get any grip. The Mayor darted over and held it open, and she plunged her hand in, finally managing to grip a single paper slip between her thumb and index fingers. I wasn't nervous. Not really.

1.7/4521. 1.7 Out of 4521. 1.7. Not even two whole numbers worth of chance.

The Escort took a moment to flip her hair.

"Chevelle Watts."

So much for math.

My world spun, and the blood rushed to my head. I gave myself a light tap on the cheek.

"This is your moment, Chevelle." I whisper to myself. My feet start moving toward the stage, and I turn my face upwards and look the Escort in the eye, flashing an enormous smile. Beaming, I walk confidently to the stage. I'll get to go to the Capitol, suss it out. When I win, I'll go back and perfect the Hovercraft. A plan for the future falls together in my head perfectly, and I feel my grin finally reach my eyes.

This isn't a death sentence, this is an opportunity. You just have to play your cards right.

**Lucas Haven**

Chevelle Watts. The funny little girl who works at the Car Repair Shop, who dyed her hair silver with motor oil. I grimaced as she mounted the stage, smiling so wide you'd think she'd already won.

I looked at my watch. 10.30, on the dot. Soon, I'd be out of here, we'd all file out of the square and back to our homes. Some would grieve for love ones, others would rejoice for children still unreaped. Then, we'd sit down to three weeks of watching Chevelle and her District partner die.

The Escort dipped her hand into the Boy's Ball, tenderly picking up a piece of paper sitting on top of all the other, not even bothering to swirl it around. I swallowed.

"Lucas Haven."

Damn. God damn. My hands clenched and my gut squeezed. My feet began to move without my permission, and I felt like a little windup toy marching up those stairs with an unnatural stiffness. I didn't cry, I didn't yell, but inside I was screaming and swearing in every way possible all at once. I gave a small smile to Chevelle, and she grinned right back, making my stomach churn.

The audience applauded politely before filing out mechanically. The blood in my head thumped against my skull with the undying rhythm of a clock. My minutes were numbered now, I knew. I could practically count my remaining seconds on Earth.

Tick tock, life is a clock.

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><p><strong>Well! That took far too long! Reviews would be lovely. <strong>

**Oh, and just a warning: If you ever stumble across a little Harry Potter Fanfic called 'Draco's Christmas Cuppa', do not read it, it is not about Draco trying to work out how to make Eggnog as I originally thought, it is about something much worse, and for the love of God and all things good don't read it. It is reminiscent of a Human Centipede porno and made me want to vomit. Save yourselves! Saaaave.**

**Reviews! Please! :)**


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